Things Left Unsaid
by beccyorange
Summary: FIC REOPENED. MORE INFO IN CHAPTER 9 After a tragic accident, which turns the duo into a one-o, the surviving person realises the things he never said. Slight Ianthony, nothing major. Angst. Angst everywhere. Please read and review, and share this fic with your friends
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

"Could our food TAKE any longer?" I asked sarcastically as Ian and I sat in the drivethrough, waiting for our tacos…yes…tacos…AGAIN! This wasn't being recorded for a Lunchtime With Smosh and we still ate really unhealthy.

It was a rainy and dreary day. Cold and gloomy and unhappy. It seemed to make everyone unhappy. Ian and I seemed to be the exception, as we had both had our twitter verified earlier on that day.

When we got our food Ian restarted the car and we drove back home. The roads were slippery and dangerous. Numerous cars had no lights on, and the rain had started to fall heavily again, obscuring the road and our view. We stopped at a red light. Then drove on. Then stopped at another. Then drove.

It was at our third traffic light that we had got a green light and could drive straight through, when there was a sickening CRUNCH coming from the drivers side of the car.

I turned my head around quickly, hearing my neck crack, and saw an sight that I wish I had never seen.

A truck had failed to stop and had slammed into the drivers side door, and had smashed into Ian.

"SHIT IAN!" I screamed, terrified for my best friend

"A-Anthony?" he asked, his voice quiet and terrified, as he turned to face me.

I was horrified by what I saw. Blood dripped down the side of his face. His legendary bowl haircut was sticky with blood oozing out of a deep wound on his skull. A dark patch was growing on his shirt, and although I was terrified, I lifted his shirt to see the wound.

Oh god and I wished I hadn't. There was a deep wound, blood pouring out of it, I could see that he had broken ribs.

I sat there motionless, as I watched my best friend. As I watched the light leave his pale, blue eyes. His chest rose and fell slowly. His eyes stared at me, trying to memorize my face. Then his chest stopped rising and falling. His heart had stopped beating. Ian Andrew Hecox, my best friend, had just died.

I could hear screams for someone to call an ambulance. But it seemed like all background noise.

I couldn't comprehend the series of event that had just occurred. All I could figure out was my best friend was dead.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Dear Ian Andrew Hecox,

You'd laugh at me if you were here right now, laugh at me for writing this letter to you. But you're not here. That's why I'm writing it. You'll never get a chance to read it anyway. I plan on burying it with you.

I miss you Ian. It took the emergency crews ages to get me out of the car, I wasn't injured at all, I just wouldn't leave you.

God, I wish this was an April Fools Day joke, the smoshers wish the same. I recorded a video about it, explaining what happened. I had to end smosh, I had to. I couldn't do it without you. Bloody hell I need you back.

I left things unsaid. I thought that we had all the time in the world. I was planning on teling you what you mean…meant, to me. I loved you Ian. I still do. The thing is I can't tell any more if it was best friend love, brotherly love, or something more. It's not going to make a difference now is it.

I haven't smiled since it happened, haven't laughed, haven't slept either. I can't sleep, sleep will bring on dreams, dreams will bring on memories, and memories will bring on the nightmares. Then again being awake without you is a nightmare. I haven't even been outside.

You'd find this creepy, if you were still here. But I kept the clothes you were in when…it…happened. I haven't gone near your room, it still smells like you. I haven't re-arranged the cushions where you sat on the couch. I haven't changed anything you did. It comforts me, somehow. Plus it has memories, of us Ian, of you. I need them all.

Your funeral is in a few hours. It's going to be weird. I've seen you die before, but they were fake, Mailtime deaths and deaths with special effects. But this was real, this can't be undone. This is permanent.

Oh god. I'm breaking Ian. I'm broken. No longer human. No emotions other than grief and sadness. No smile. No colour in my face. No sparkle in my eyes. I guess they left with you. I guess you took them with you.

You left to soon.

Sincerely,

Anthony Danger Padilla


	3. Chapter 3

Dear Ian Hecox,

It's been a week since your funeral…our friends are all worried for me. They think I'm depressed, I am, but I won't admit it to them. They think I need to see a therapist. But you know me, you know I'm not good with expressing emotions like this. Writing these letters, this is my therapy. Even though you'll never read them, it helps me…in a way…

I think you're watching me from up there. You're probably disappointed in me for being like this. But I can't help it. I think that the angels are jealous of your eyes aren't they?

You wouldn't want me to act like this, you would want me to live. But I can't. Not without you. There's no point really. Nothing to wake up for. Nothing to breathe for really. Not without you here anymore.

I guess I could recap how your funeral went. I remember you telling me you wanted to see it, when you died. That was only a few days before the accident.

It was heartbreaking Ian. No smoshers came. It was completely private. Smoshers found your grave afterwards however. But they didn't trash it. In fact, they left flowers and smosh references there.

But back to the funeral. Your mum came, my mum came. I can't remember much, it was all hazy.

But I remember how I did your goodbye speech. I remember how I said you were the best man I had ever met. I remember how I reminisced all the good times. I remember how I praised you, for being so uniquely you. I remember them lowering you, and your casket down. I remember me just collapsing, breaking down. Tears streaming down my face as the ground was put on top of you.

It was then that it fully hit it. It was at that exact moment that I realised you were gone for good.

Sincerely,

Anthony Padilla


	4. Chapter 4

Dear Ian,

Oh god man. I don't know how long I can keep going. It's been one whole month. One. Whole. Month.

It's been a month since I last saw your blue eyes without seeing a picture. It's been a month since I last ruffled your hair and teased it for looking like a bowl. One month since I teased you for being shorter than me. One month since the sickening crunch. One month since I saw you die…One month since life stopped being worth living. Tomorrow it will be one month and one day. And I'll continue going through this cycle until I give up and break down. Lose track of time.

I've been sitting at the door to your room and just staring. Or I'll stare at the area you sat on, on the couch. Or I'll stare at your facebook, or twitter. In fact once I even went and searched you on tumblr.

I see you sometimes. Just out of the corner of my eye. Off in the distance. I'll turn to see you, and you'll disappear. Slowly taking more of my life with you.

I can't keep going like this. People are really getting worried. I haven't been outside since your funeral. I haven't smiled, or laughed. In fact, I haven't even cried. I just sit there. Numb. Unfeeling. Not noticing anything. Disconnected. It seems like I've fallen off the Earth.

But when our old friends come over and try to cheer me up. I'm worse. I block them out. Until their voices are just a hum in my ears. Then I remember how you used to hum sometimes. And I freeze. Go cold. Then I calmly get up and walk to your room then sit on your bed.

It still smells like you.

Sincerely,

Anthony


	5. Chapter 5

I wake up. I don't know what day it is. What month it is. I make an effort today, I shave.

It's my first time going outside in days. I open the front door. Flowers are there from the smoshers. I don't know how the hell they found our address.

I get in the car. I haven't driven since that day. Too many memories. Too many horrors. Too many nightmares.

I reach it. My destination. 'Sacramento Cemetery' the sign reads. I swallow and go in

The smoshers seem to visit Ians grave often. Fresh flowers are there, as well as cards, and mini smosh references. It comforts me.

Luckily today it is rainy, cold and gloomy. So no-one else is here. I am alone.

I take a deep breath as I sit next to Ians grave, and pull flowers out of a small bag I bought with me and place them on his grave.

"Long time no see" I say. I try to laugh, but I think I've forgotten how to.

"I miss you Ian. I need you back man. Just stop this. I miss your bowl haircut. I miss your laugh. I miss your smile. I miss your eyes. I miss you. Just you in general" I whisper. My throat pinhole thin as I choke back tears that well up in my eyes.

"You meant more to me then you probably ever knew. You weren't just a best friend. You were more of a brother"

This is it. The things I left unsaid are coming out and I can't help it. Tears flow down my face and drip onto the grassy ground.

"I was meant to grow old with you Ian. We were meant to go to the same retirement home. The two buddies for life" I say

"There are so many things I left unsaid" I choke out "Like the fact I love you. The fact I always have. The fact I always will. The fact I thought you were the greatest person who ever lived. I never said this. I never said how much I admired you. And I'm sorry. For whenever I made you feel like I didn't want you around" I cry

"It's just…at some times…I couldn't live with you, but now" I laugh again. It sounds unnatural. "I learnt I just can't live without you"

That's it. That's my breaking point. I can't do it anymore. I collapse next to Ians grave and sob.

I shiver from the cold, and regret not bringing a jumper. I look down at my once tan arms, to see them pale. With scars on the wrists. Ian would've been disappointed with me. I know it. The red of the fresh scar contrasts with the pale of my skin. I just stare at the inflictions of my depression. Of losing my best friend, my brother…my soulmate.

I get up and walk. I walk right past my car. I am fully aware of what I am doing. I stand by the road, busy like always. I intend on joining Ian.

So I step out. In front of a speeding car. The driver has no time to react, no time to stop. And I feel a crunch as the world goes black.


	6. Chapter 6

White. Light. Bright. Pure. Bright pure. Bright light. White light. Bright pure light. Bright pure white. Bright pure white light. That's all I can see.

Then it dims. Grows darker. And I feel it. I feel the agonizing pain. The burning pain, that rips through the side of my body. It hurts. It hurts so much. It is now that I realise my plan failed. The physical pain does nothing to stop my emotional pain. In fact it makes it worse. This must be what Ian felt like in his last moments.

I open my eyes. More white. And electronics. I'm in a hospital. I'm not surprised though. I just got hit by a speeding car.

Ian walks in the room, and I blink. He is replaced with a girl, young and pretty. Her nametag reads "Nicole"

"You can go Mr Padilla, you've been out for weeks and you're fully healed. You will be in pain however. But you can get painkillers for that" she says, as she smiles and walks out the door.

I call Ians mum, she picks me up from the hospital and drops me off at home. I sleep.

I wake up and groan in pain as I trudge out to the lounge room. Then I see him again. Ian. Lazing on the couch. His hair still matted with dried blood. Wearing the same clothes as he did in the accident. Which is impossible for two reasons:

He's dead

And 2) I could see the exact same pair of clothes on the dining table.

"I-I-Ian?" I whispered, my voice breaking with relief and pain at the same time. He doesn't acknowledge me. "Ian!" I yell

He turns around. Blood on his face. "Yes?"

"H-How are you?" I asked. This could not be happening. I watched him die. I watch him lowered into the ground

"I was in a car crash…how do you think I am?" he laughed. Of course he would laugh at something like this.

He rose from the couch to hug me.

Then I wake up. Screaming in agony and sadness. Tears staining my pillow.

I was alone.

Alone.

Alone. I had never really been alone.

Not since I had Ian.

But I don't have Ian.

Not anymore

Then dark. Dim. Foggy. Darkness engulfed my sight. Darkness took over. Black was all I could see. My mind was foggy. As depression took over again.


	7. Chapter 7

**AUTHORS NOTE: THIS FIC WILL PROBABLY ONLY HAVE A FEW MORE CHAPTERS, MAYBE TWO MORE AFTER THIS ONE**

* * *

Days seemed to fly past. The sun rose and set, the moon rose and set. I was disconnected. Months had been and gone. My birthday had passed. I just wasn't paying attention to the world. I didn't want to pay attention to the world anymore. Normally, people would've gotten over what happened, would've started getting on with their lives, would've started living again. That's what our friends did, sure, they were still upset, but they lived. I didn't.

One night, I just couldn't sleep. My brain was just replaying that day. It was torture. Seeing him die every time I shut my eyes, every time I blinked, every time I slept. I didn't sleep very often anyway. More like I took sleeping pills to knock me out.

I walked to HIS room. Still unchanged from that day months ago. It still smelt like him.

This time, I sat on his bed. Something I hadn't done before. His sheets were untidy, just like he had left them that rainy morning. I laid down. The smell of him comforting me. I was almost about to fall asleep again, when there was a knock on the front door.

I rose and answered it.

Ians mum stood there in the doorway. God, even she seemed to cope better than I did

"I forgot to give this to you, at the funeral. He gave it to me a while ago, and told me to give it to you if anything happened to him" She said. Her eyes tearing up

"T-Thanks Mrs Hecox" I said, as I took the object off her. It was a scrapbook. I almost laughed, Ian…scrapbooking? That's hilarious! But of course. I couldn't laugh.

I went back into his bedroom, sat back down on his bed and opened it up.

I almost started crying at the first page. He had pictures of us, having fun, all the way back when we first met. Our haircuts were just so ridiculous then. Then more pictures, getting more and more recent. Up until the start of 2012. No pictures since then.

At the last page, there was a note written:

* * *

_"Dear Anthony,_

_If you're reading this then I'm dead._

_Just to put it bluntly._

_I knew I was going to die, I was given until the end of 2013 to live._

_I have, well had, lung cancer. Inoperable to be exact. The doctors don't know how I got it. I don't know how I got it._

_I hope you're happy Anthony. I hope that you can cope without me. I know that if our situations were reversed, I wouldn't be able to cope._

_Call me gay, call my overly cheesy and romantic. But you were everything to me. Everything. If you had died. I would've died to join you._

_I loved you Anthony. I never had the guts to say it. I was too scared you would reject me, because our friendship would never be the same again if I said it, and you rejected me. And without our friendship, I had nothing._

_I just couldn't tell you. Not while I was still alive. But now, as I'm writing this, I realise that I should tell you. But I just can't watch your heart break when I tell you "I'm dying Anthony"_

_But I wish I could change this. Get rid of this cancer. But I can't. I'm weak and hopeless. But you'll probably figure it out eventually anyway. I'll grow short of breath, I'll get sick easily. I'll be skinny. I'll be tired easier. And you'll notice. But I still will never have the guts to tell you I'm dying._

_It would probably be easier on you, if I told you, but it wouldn't be easier on me. I know it sounds selfish, not telling you because it would hurt me. But when you're dying you get a different perspective on everything._

_So heres what I've always wanted to say to you Anthony: I love you, I always have and I always will. You're what kept me alive. I would've had the doctors kill me, it was the only other option then dying slowly and painfully. But I chose the slow and painful road, for you Anthony. For you. This note here. This is for you._

_My mother was forbidden to read this, she was also forbidden to tell you._

_I just hope you can forgive me Anthony_

_Sincerely,_

_Ian"_

* * *

I sit there. And I cry.

My best friend was dying anyway…I'm angry, of course, that he didn't tell me. But then I realised, it would've been WORSE if he told me, I don't know how, it just would.

I cry myself to sleep that night


	8. Chapter 8

It's been a whole year. A whole year since Ian died. I'm still not coping. I'm seeing a therapist again

"Severe depression. Possibly suicidal." The therapist said. I didn't pay much attention. I don't pay attention to anything any more.

I can't keep doing this. I always promise to myself that it will be the last day, and that tomorrow I'll be back to normal. But I can't go back to being normal. Not without Ian.

I barely eat anymore. I think I went a whole week without eating once.

"Anthony…" a voice says "ANTHONY!" the voice yells, it's my therapist.

"Hm?" I asked, not really caring

"I think you need to get over this, it's been a whole year" she said

"You don't get it. You can't just get over the fact your best friend died!" I said.

She rolled her eyes. "Well you at least need to stop being so…upset…all the time" she said "Go out and live a bit"

"I don't wanna live without him" I mumbled as I stormed out of the room.

* * *

I knew what I had to do, and I knew how many sleeping pills it would take to do it.

It was later that day that I started.

I sat in the bathtub. Knife in hand. Arm outstretched. The pain was welcome, I enjoyed it. It momentarily took my mind off my emotional anguish. It wasn't long before the lukewarm water I sat in was bloodred. Crimson blood contrasted against my chalk white skin.

I dried myself off, my cuts still bleeding down my arms.

I grabbed a few pieces of paper and a pen. I had notes to write. Goodbyes to say.

_'Dear Smosh fans,_

_I'm sorry for leaving you as well. I hope you guy will never forget Ian and I_

_I hope you can forgive me. I hope you don't think I'm weak for doing this. It just got to hard._

_I hope you never have to go through what I have. I hope you all live full and happy lives, unlike mine._

_Im sorry,_

_Anthony'_

I folded that and placed it in my pocket. Then started my next one.

_'Dear Ian,_

_Yeah. I know you're not gonna read this. But I'm coming to join you._

_I should've stayed, I should've just gotten over your death. But I couldn't. I tried. I tried so hard. It was impossible. Everything reminded me of you._

_I saw the scrapbook. I saw the note._

_I loved you Ian. I just left it unsaid._

_Love,_

_Anthony'_

I swallowed hard.

I sent a text to Ians mum

"Hey, It's Anthony. Can we talk tomorrow at my house?" the text said.

I knew we wouldn't talk. I just wanted her to find my body. I know she would post about this. She would tell the smoshers.

I grabbed a glass of water, as I took a lethal amount of sleeping pills.

I felt weird, strange. I was dying. I accepted it. I welcomed it. I wanted it.

My world went black as I collapsed, my head impacted the floor and I died. Notes still in my hands.

My last thoughts where all the things left unsaid.


	9. Chapter 9

_**A/N: Yes, I know that story was completed and that they both had died by the end of it. But I couldn't leave this fic, I loved the idea and I had more inspiration. So I have some more little chapters in them. They are NOT IN CHRONOLOGICAL ORDER, other than the fact they are set BEFORE Chapter 6,7,8 and the last few sentences of Chapter 5. UNLESS STATED OTHERWISE.**_

_**Please enjoy and review.**_

**(Yeah I know, small chapter)**

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I was sitting in the hospital, sitting there in the cold plastic chair, shaking my head and silently sobbing. This couldn't be real. It had to be a dream, or a nightmare.

You can't be dead Ian, you just can't. That can't be you that they're wheeling out of the room, after trying, but failing to save you.

It can't be you. But I know damn well that it is.

The nurses are kind to me, they tell me that they're sorry, and they did the best they could, but there was nothing they could do.

I nodded grimly and walked out. I went to get into my car, before I remembered what happened to it.

I collapsed down in tears. I got out my phone and called for a taxi.

You were in my mind the whole time Ian, I kept thinking you were next to me, or that you were at home and I would walk through the door and you would be there. The bloodstains on my clothes remind me otherwise.

It hurts a lot. Knowing you're gone. Is it easier for you? Because you don't have to feel anything anymore.


	10. Haunted

_**A/N: I want to say thank you to everyone who has read/reviewed/favourite/followed/shared this fic, it honestly means so much to me. I have just passed over 4000 reads, and I am so happy! When I wrote this fic while lying in bed on holiday, I was not expecting this reaction! Thank you.**_

_**Also, if you have an idea for a chapter, just leave it in a review and I'll write it (:**_

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Its like a drug to me now. I desperately need to hold onto the memory of the blue-eyed man with the brown hair. I've already lost him physically, all I have left are the memories and I am determined to not let them simply wash away over time. They need to be remembered. That brilliant man, my best friend.

He still haunts me. He haunts my head, my brain. Almost every waking moment, every thought that goes through my head is of him. Of his laugh, of his face, of the way he would spend way to long in the shower, or how he would walk around the house humming some made-up tune to himself.

I now purposely bring his memory to the forefront of my mind. When I wake up, I lay in bed, and imagine him still in the house. I play out his routine every day. How he would spend exactly 7 and a half minutes in the shower, then another three minutes brushing his beloved bowl haircut. How he would fidget when we sat on the couch, trying to find the comfy position he had the night before.

Sometimes, I swear I see him out of the corner of my eye, just a glimpse, nothing more – nothing less. Just a flash of pale white skin and a light brown beard accompanied with a brown bowl and piercing blue eyes. I am suddenly filled with warmth, and I turn around smiling. Then I see nothing is there. All the warmth leaves me and I am painfully aware of how lonely I really am.


	11. Dreaming Up My Nightmares

**A/N: I want to thank everyone who has read this story, I have had over 4,500 reads so far. Thank you for reading, reviewing or favouriting. It means so much to me. Thank you to the people who share this story on twitter or tumblr**

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It was the first night I had slept since he died. It was three days and eleven hours and twenty-eight minutes exactly since the accident. I had put off sleep, doing everything to stop my eyes from shutting, and too stop myself from floating away from reality.

Even though I despised reality now, and all its twists and turns and problems and things that you never expect to happen, but happen anyway. I hate reality and its way to make you seem happy, and have everything going perfectly, before everything comes crashing down around you, everything you worked so hard to achieve just plummets to the ground in front of your eyes. I hate its ability to rip out people's hearts, and just leave them slowly dying. I hate its ability to take away the only thing I really lived for.

I had tried everything to halt my inevitable fall into dreamland. Coffee, energy drinks, sugar. You name it. I tried it to keep my eyes open just that extra minute, to keep the images away from just another damned sixty seconds of my life.

Eventually exhaustion and emotional anguish won as I my eyes slowly dropped shut, unwilling to open again. They were heavy. It was torture

_I was dreaming, but it was more like being in hell. Being forced to watch my best friend die again. Except it wasn't from my point of view. I was like a floating ghost, simply observing the scene that played out below me, and not being able to help._

_That hurt the most. Watching the scene of blood and broken bones and broken hearts and pure red crimson blood, knowing I had seen it all before and knowing exactly what happens at the end, but wanting to try to change it, and fix it, but being unable to._

_It was easy to see the fear, terror and pure shock in my brown eyes; those three emotions were so clearly reflected in Ian's eyes._

_It wasn't as quick in my dream. In reality, he was gone in roughly ten minutes. This seemed longer, and worse. From my vantage point, I could see his limbs go loose; I could see how his arms slowly dropped from holding onto my shoulders, something I didn't know had happened in reality. The most terrifying thing I saw was the piece of shrapnel that protruded from the back of his seat. I now knew the cause of the blood loss which killed him. A shard of metal, part of it was still in him. I think I liked it better when I didn't know._

I woke up crying, and screaming his name to the heavens. I cursed fate for what it had done.


	12. Therapy

**A/N: Wow. So I'm only 42 views away from having 5000 PEOPLE LOOK AT THIS. Okay and you can leave a request for a chapter in a review! And I drop the 'f-bomb' once in this chapter.**

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Where am I? Why am I in this fancy room, with pale blue walls...? Oh yes, I remember now. I have to go to "therapy" because apparently I'm "depressed". I think they may be right. I don't think therapy is going to do anything to help at all though. I don't want to be here. I don't want to be in this room. It reminds me of the hospital waiting room on the rainy day that I lost _him_. I don't want to be sitting here awkwardly, my legs pulled up, making me in a ball-like shape in front of this old man I've never met. I don't want to be avoiding eye contact with him, but I've avoided everyone's eyes since it happen. What if his eyes are blue, the same blue as Ian's, but I don't think anyone could have eyes like that.

The man has a nametag, but I don't bother reading it. I'll just call him 'Doctor' for the time being. This man wasn't the man I wanted to see. He wasn't the man I needed to see. This man had orange hair and green eyes. So much different than the man I wanted. It was only then that I realised my thoughts revolve around my lost friend.

He coughed, causing me to look at him, then he spoke "How are you Anthony?" he asked, his voice seemed tired.

I would've laughed, but I think I've forgotten how to do that "I'm fine" I stated, and then went back to being silent.

The man leaned forwards "I can't help you if you're not going to co-operate" he grumbled.

That was it. I leapt up and out of my chair "I don't want your fucking help" I said, as I started to storm out of the room.

The man was taken aback "You need to get over him Anthony"

I turned around "I can't just get over him!" I yelled "He was part of me! He was half of my heart and now that he's gone, so is half of me! It's like, I'm scared, that if I move that I'll just crumble into pieces and fall down and not ever get up!" I said, almost screaming at this man, who sat there with an indifferent look on his face "He was the best part of me! He made me who I am. Now there is _nothing _left of me anymore. Absolutely _nothing!"_

"You can't get over something like that" I said, my voice was flat and lifeless. I walked out the door.

Tears threatened to overflow, and I ran to my car. I faintly remember slamming the door shut, and seeing that the man's name was 'Ian'

How ironic


	13. Texts He'll Never Read

**A/N: *keyboard smash* Ohmygod. I've passed 5000 views! So you get a double update now!I'm trying it in a way I've never done before as well, and I'm writing text messages. If you like the way I do this chapter, tell me and I'll try to do more. And I'm already writing the next chapter so hopefully you won't have to wait as long as normal for more**

* * *

My phone vibrated in my lap, and I quickly reached for it and unlocked it, hoping, just hoping, that Ian had somehow replied to my texts

oOo

Me: Ian. Please tell me this was a joke

Me: Please.

Me: Ian please reply

Me: Please tell me this is a joke

Me: I'm sorry I never told you before

Me: I'm sorry I was so mean to you and your hair

Me: I'm sorry I did something to you that made you not want to come back

-1 week later-

Me: Ian It's been a week

Me: Your funerals happened

Me: A part of me hopes that we just buried an empty coffin

Me: A part of me wishes that you weren't…gone…

Me: Call me childish but I've been wishing on stars for you to come back

Me: But you haven't.

-1 week later-

Me: Okay Ian this isn't funny

Me: Get home

Me: Now

Me: Please…

Me: I miss you

-today-

Me: I can't believe I'm text you

Me: A part of me still believes you're here

Me: It still believes you're alive

Me: It still expects you to just walk in the front door

Me: It waits to hear your footsteps in the morning, like it did all those days before

Me: It waits to hear you laughing as you come up with a script

Me: I'm still waiting Ian

Me: I'm waiting for you to come home

* * *

** MORE A/N: I want to say thank you to the people on twitter that I see tweet about this fic, and I want to say thank you to the reviewers/followers/favouriters because if you didn't do that, I would think no-one liked it and I wouldn't write anymore. I want to thank the people that reviewed this fic months after I had originally finished it, which gave me the spark to start again. I just love you all and in comparision to other fics others may write, 5000views may not seem like a lot, but I've never had anything I've done before even relatively popular in a fandom, and this is the one time. I'm actually tearing up.**


	14. They're Both Broken

_**A/N: Fourth paragraph onwards (after the line thing) is from a third person view. I got the idea for this chapter from SmoshyBoxman on twitter. Love you Kristie**_

* * *

I'm sitting out on the grass out the front of our house. Well, the house. Or my house. I call it a house now, not a home. It doesn't feel like a home anymore since Ian died. Maybe it was him that made the house into a home.

The stars are twinkling above me, flickering colours and a plane flies overhead. I lay there, wondering if Ian is up there as a star, watching me. I think that if he was up there, that if he was watching me, he would be disappointed. I don't bother trying to live anymore. I do what I need to do, and nothing more. I spent minimal time outside in society, I barely eat or drink or shower.

A shooting star fell through the sky, and I gazed up at it "I wish he would come back"… I muttered, as a tear fell from my eyes.

* * *

The car rolled up at the house, an unconscious man was laying on the front lawn, almost as though he was in a coma. As the woman walked closer to the man, she could tell it was her son's best friend

"Anthony…" she muttered sadly, as she managed to slightly pick him up and drag him into the house.

She sat there sadly, watching her son's best friend sleep. She was waiting for him to wake up, they needed to talk. Anthony needed help.

The house was a mess, and none of Ian's old things had been moved. If she had the energy, she would've cleaned it.

After half an hour, Anthony woke from his sleep, and the woman almost gasped at his appearance.

He had deep, purple bags under his eyes and every part of him looked tired.

"Oh, Mrs Hecox. I wasn't expecting you. I would've…cleaned up a bit…" he said, slowly and sadly. Like he couldn't be bothered to speak.

The woman smiled, but it was a sad smile. Both those people were filled with an emptiness; they both needed that boy with blue eyes. Without him, they just weren't the same.

"Anthony. You need to get help" she said, her eyes twinkled with sadness for the lost man in front of her. Anthony was just a shell of his former self. Gone were the laughs and the smiles, now replaced with an ash white skin and a straight face. Every time he moved his jumper sleeves, she could've sworn she saw the outline of cuts.

Anthony shook his head "I'm fine…I promise" he mumble sadly, the words just tumbled out of his mouth, like he had said them so many times before. He was lying; he was trying to get the world to believe that he, Anthony Padilla, was okay. Or maybe he was lying to get himself to believe he was fine. Whatever the motive, it failed. The words fell flat, emotionless and dead.

Ian's mum rose to go and comfort the man, she cared for him like a son. As she reached out her arms to hold him in a motherly hug, he flinched away, uncomfortable with human touch, and he jumped out of the seat and ran to his room. The soft echo of sobs seemed to flow through the house.

So she waits there, she sits out in the lounge room and tries so very hard to block out the memories, she needs to look strong for this broken man, if she falters and breaks down, then so will the man whose sobs echo the house. Tears can be saved for later. Tears will be saved for later. No tears, not now. So she locks them up in her heart, in a small brown box and throws away the key. Maybe she won't open the box. Maybe this woman will hold in all her tears, and forever keep her brave face on. No, that seems too hard. Much too hard. So she picks the lock to the brown box of tears in her heart and just shuts the lid so it can easily be opened later.

Anthony walks into the room. The first thing the woman notices is his red eyes and his look of sadness. She can't remember the last time she heard him laugh, or the last time she saw him smile, just a raising of the corner of his lips.

"Anthony, you need to get out of here, you need to leave, for just a few days" she says, as she hands him a plane ticket to Australia, that she had brought for him earlier.

"You have ten minutes. Pack your bags. We are going and you're not stopping it. We need to get away, for just a little while" she mutters as he nods and walks to his room and packs.

She can hear him chocking back soft sobs.

* * *

**_A/N: I hope you guys like this, reviews make me write faster ehehehe. I've almost finished the next chapter anyway. I hope you like the way I wrote the majority of the chapter. I always used to write third person but I kinda stopped. Next chapter will be back from Anthonys POV. Next chapter also will have some Taylor Swift lyrics featured in it._**

**_Leave requests for a chapter in a review and I'll do it._**

**_I think I rambled enough...GOODBYEEE. Enjoy!_**


	15. Chapter 15

__**A/N: I dont even know if people read these, but like I said in the previous chapter, this chapter is based around Taylor Swift lyrics. The first set of lyrics are from "Back To December", the second set is from "Story of Us" and the third set is "Long Live"**

**ALSO. LEAVE ME CHAPTER REQUESTS3**

* * *

_{turns out freedom ain't nothing but missing you,_  
_wishing that I realised what I had when you were mine.}_

I turn around in the crowded Perth airport. We're in Western Australia in summer, and it is hot! I seem to have lost Ian's mum, but I can see a group of girls wearing Smosh shirts and I dash away before they can see me.

Then the dreaded announcement over the PA system

"Can Anthony Padilla please come to Gate 13, Anthony Padilla to Gate 13" the monotonous voice said, and I watch as the girls quickly run over there.

I groan as I walk over there, luckily the gate area is crowded, and I slip in unnoticed, find Ian's mum who was in charge of making that announcement, then we both walk out. Surprisingly luck is on my side.

Of course, my luck runs out. It always does. Every time I think I'm lucky, bam. Everything goes wrong. I hear a shrill shriek from behind us, as the group of girls point at us, and the rest of the gate turns to stare.

I'm forced to speak and I'm shocked at what my voice sounds like. It sounds raspy and just dead. I don't know how a voice can sound dead, but mine does. I haven't spoken for ages. The girls seem happy to see me, but they seem to have a sad look at the absence of my other half, but they don't mention it and I am utterly grateful. I wonder what I must look like to them, but I shrug it off as I get pictures taken with them, forcing a smile that doesn't touch my eyes. Nothing like my old smiles, back when I used to

As we leave the airport and wander around my mind wanders every time I see a man because I can find a feature of Ian in every one of them. That one has the same colour hair, that one has the same shirt, that one has the same eyes, one has the same laugh. He's everywhere.

I never realised how much he meant to me until he was gone. Even now, when I'm in a new place, I still think of him. Leaving did nothing to stop him haunting me, it really made it worse. Now I think of what he would've thought of this place if he was here.

The three day trip passes in a blur of recognizing him then realising it isn't him and crying myself to sleep

_{I'd tell you I miss you but I don't know how_  
_I've never heard silence quite this loud}_

I sit down to write a letter to Ian, like I always used to, even though I know he will never read them. Even now I still can't find the words. It's the only thing to do on the plane. Write to him, tears staining my page.

I don't know how to tell him how much he meant to me, how much he still means to me, I don't know how to tell him how much I miss him.

The plane is dead silent, yet it's full of noise.

I've never heard silence quite this loud.

_{may these memories break our fall}_

I wake up every night from a dream with a memory of us. They soften the blow of losing Ian, as I can see him every time I shut my eyes.

But I hate the last memory, just before he died.

I hate that fight.

We were sitting in the car in the rain, not unhappily. Then Ian spoke

"Do you ever think about quitting Smosh? Just giving it a break for a while?" he asked, his voice sounded ashamed of the fact he would think that

I scoffed rudely at the idea "Of course not. Smosh is my life, you're kidding about the break right?" I laughed it off

He laughed awkwardly "Yeah…just kidding with you" he mumbled

"Ian, are you fucking serious?" I asked, wanting to know if my work partner wanted to have a break.

He groaned and nodded

"You're fucking insane" I said, with a slight hint of acid and anger in my voice.

They were some of the last words I ever said to my best friend.

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**MORE A/N: I want to give a shoutout to SmoshyBoxman (on twitter)/Kristie for her freaking awesome chapter requests. I also want to say thank you to everyone who reads this and reviews it here/tweets me about it. I love you.**


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